


Glass

by lmeden



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-07
Updated: 2010-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:11:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmeden/pseuds/lmeden





	Glass

I never expected this.

Not her, like this. Especially because the first time I saw her, she was merely a blur of dark hair and pale skin before she was upon me and plunged her knife into my stomach and twisted it, and I rode the shattering pain of it up to wakefulness, and gasped.

Right now, I feel as if I'm still in the middle of the gasp. I'm exhaling, and my breath has not yet returned.

-

I suppose it is breathlessness that causes me to do it. A shortage of blood to the brain. A dimming of my vision.

Because when I see Cobb sitting alone, with a needle buried deep into his arm and his head sagging, his face uncommonly peaceful, in sleep, I do not hesitate. I walk over to him, settle into the nearest chair, and pick up another needle from the case. Its tubing trails after it, weighing heavy in my hand, and I pause.

I glance around, then cast my sudden misgivings and rational thoughts away, and slip the needle into my arm (its mouth has a unique bite, that needle, like none other) and slide back in my chair. I do not sink into darkness, or feel heaviness pull my eyelids closed.

I simply close my eyes in a blink, and open them to the dream.

An elevator surrounds me. I stand in its center, and iron-cast grating serves to divide me from what lie before me. A hallway, in a modern house. The house seems warm inside, with sunlight streaming through the windows and happy photographs framed on the walls. But inside the elevator it is alarmingly cold. A chill begins to seep into me, and I feel a sudden urge to get out, to throw the doors of the elevator open and stride forward into this warm, inviting home.

I reach out, wanting to pull at the doors until they fold under themselves and open.

But I pause.

There, on the wall of the elevator, is a panel of numbers. Buttons; normal elevator buttons. Representing floors, usually, but here in this dream? I glance at the hallway that lies in front of me, at its inviting endlessness, and know that this is the wrong place to be.

So I reach down, fumble my fingers over the buttons, and press down hard on the **B**.

The elevator jerks and moves downward. The hallway vanishes above me, and disappears into darkness. Then comes another floor, and another, and I watch as rooms pass me, just beyond my fingers reach, through the doors of the elevator.

Finally, the elevator slows and stops. In front of me is a plain hotel room, cast in the same golden hue as everything in this dream, and completely wrecked. I reach forward and pulled the gates of the elevator open. The metal is rough on the skin of my hands, pulling against me as if the doors don't wish to open – as if they wish to guard Cobb's secrets in lieu of the man.

I push forward. I must know, I tell myself, and it is the complete truth, if easily misunderstood.

Over the back of a cushioned couch, I see the dark of her hair rising. It curls lightly across her shoulders, and before I know myself I have stepped forward – my hands have released the elevator doors and I step towards her. My foot comes down upon a wine glass on the floor, shattering the stem and crushing it into the carpet. I freeze, and she turns, standing.

Mal is beautiful and cold. Her face is pale and smooth, like a statue in an ancient temple. I could bow to her, I think in a moment of whimsy. But her eyes are not cold. They are hot and intense, and I find myself flushing under her gaze.

Her eyes sweep up and down me, settling upon my foot. I step back, off of the glass. I look up, away from her lips and into her dark eyes. They crease around the corners.

"Why are you here?" she asks, with what I dare to name as amusement. "Have you come to break my glasses?"

Her voice has an enrapturing lilt to it. My lips curls slightly at the corners in response, and I take a deep breath to settle myself. Her perfume whispers through my nose and curls in my lungs. It cuts straight through the stale smoky scent that pervades the room, and it sets my head spinning.

I blink. Mal's hand extend, unfolds. In an instant the wine glass that I have smashed into the floor pulls itself from the carpet and reassembles itself, cupped in her palm. I swallow. I have never seen anything like that, except from…

Is she the architect of this dream?

My breath catches in my throat, and as I watch with wide eyes, Mal steps close. With this single step she has eliminated all distance between us. Her hair curls, tickling at my throat. As I inhale she raises the glass, just beyond my sight, and presses it against my check.

"Or are you here for me?"

The chill vibrates through me and I turn my head and lower my lips just slight, just enough, so that I can taste the line of Mal's jaw. "I have…" I don't know what, and my voice trails away to nothing.

Her cheeks swell with a smile and press against me. I hear the _thunk_ of the wine glass falling to the floor and then her arms are snaking around me, wrapping me tight and close. My breasts press against her and I feel my nipples harden. Arousal begins to build and tighten within me.

Mal's eyelashes whisper against my cheek as she turns her head. Her breath caresses my neck. I sigh, and wrap my arms around Mal's tight, beautiful body. She shifts, and steps back.

I follow.

We step backwards, pausing after each movement to regain our balance, the sensation of our shifting bodies beguiling our minds and shortening our breath. We head blindly for the bed behind us, and finally fall.


End file.
